Maybe I Am
by Edward Carson
Summary: Mrs. Patmore meditates on the missing elements of her life as she reflects on the wedded bliss of the Carsons. A one-shot focused on Mrs. Patmore's inner thoughts. She deserves much more attention. The genres don't really do the content justice.


**Maybe I Am***

" _Mrs. Patmore's just jealous_ ," Daisy said, with a sly grin at the cook.

Mrs. Hughes rolled her eyes. " _I'm sure she's not._ " It was hard to imagine anyone being jealous of her admittedly petty tribulations with Mr. Carson. Dismissing Daisy's remark from her mind, she swept from the kitchen.

Daisy continued to look at Mrs. Patmore who seemed to be trying to make up her mind about something.

" _Maybe I am_ ," the cook said, almost defiantly.

Hearing a threatening note in her voice, Daisy beat a strategic retreat. It had been a long time since she'd trembled before Mrs. Patmore's wrath, but there was no denying that dealing with it was an unattractive prospect.

Left on her own, Mrs. Patmore fell to considering.

She _was_ jealous. Not of Mrs. Hughes's happiness in itself. That is, Mrs. Patmore was very happy for her friend. In fact, she was happy for Mr. Carson, too, although she had less of an emotional investment in his well-being.

The housekeeper was, in her own words, in "late middle age," and yet she had found not just companionship but love. And it was the real thing, too. Mrs. Patmore could attest to this as a result of that highly uncomfortable conversation she'd had with Mr. Carson. What wouldn't she give to have a man declare that he loved _her_ , wanted to be _as close as two people can be_ with _her._ Occasionally she felt that Mrs. Hughes didn't really appreciate exactly what she had in Mr. Carson. He was a nice looking man. His manners were exemplary. He was a _gentle_ man, as Mrs. Hughes had obliquely attested to following their wedding trip. And he was also a cut above - a farmer's daughter from Argyll was marrying up indeed to have snared the butler of a house such as Downton Abbey at any stage in their lives. While Mrs. Hughes might have attained the lofty heights of housekeeper in the same dwelling, it was background, not position, that gave one class status. Mr. Carson had gone to a _grammar_ school and completed the course there. He quoted Shakespeare and passages from the Classics with the same ease that he set out the correct service for a Society dinner. And the precipitousness of his rise through the ranks - from the lowest footman of six to the butler of Downton Abbey in little more than a dozen years (or so she had heard) - set him apart from the average servant. ****** No, he was a _catch_.

But Mrs. Patmore would be content with the emotional advantages that Mrs. Hughes now had. Mr. Carson's affections for the housekeeper had for months been so poorly disguised that the only person whose notice they had escaped was Mr. Molesley. Everyone else, downstairs at least, were far more surprised that it had taken him so long to get on with it than that he had had such feelings at all.

She got a little exasperated with Mrs. Hughes once in a while over this, not that she showed it. But the woman had been in such a state before she married Mr. Carson about what kind of a marriage it would be and if he would really be interested in ... _that_. Even at the time Mrs. Patmore had had to rein herself in a bit. Who had ever heard of a man _not_ being interested in _that_? But ever since they'd sorted that out - and no one save Mr. Carson had been more thankful that they had done so - Mrs. Hughes had gone back to what the cook considered a rather casual attitude toward the man who was now her husband, as if she'd never had a moment's doubt about wedding him. The housekeeper, Mrs. Patmore thought, seemed to take the man's adoration of her for granted. What a pretty position to be in!

The news that the renovations to her own cottage were now complete had contributed to Mrs. Patmore's recent doldrums, and here, too, she compared her own situation unfavourably with that of Mrs. Hughes. What could be more illustrative of love than to buy a house and register it not only in your own name, but also in that of the woman you loved, even before you were assured that she loved you back? Yet that was precisely what Mr. Carson had done for Mrs. Hughes. That, as far as Mrs. Patmore was concerned, was putting your money where your mouth was. Pretty words were all very nice - actually, they were very nice, and she wouldn't mind a few of them herself - but a few practical demonstrations never went amiss. Mrs. Patmore had her own house, and was glad of it, but the wedding of her colleagues and friends had inadvertently cast a shadow over that particular achievement. Mrs. Patmore would be enjoying her cottage alone. Yes, there would be lodgers. It was a way to make a little money, but also to ensure that there would be someone else about the place. Mr. and Mrs. Carson, on the other hand, need never solicit the companionship of strangers. They would have each other.

And though she would not have admitted it either to smirking Daisy or sceptical Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore was even a little envious of that thing that had so rattled the housekeeper. Though no one ever talked about the physical intimacy of marriage, _everyone_ thought about it, and Mrs. Patmore was no exception. Ironically the most open conversation she'd ever had on the subject had been that painful conversation with Mr. Carson. But it had been painful, really, only as it was unfolding. Afterwards, Mrs. Patmore found herself quite awestruck by the man's passion. By framing it as a manifestation of the great love he had for Mrs. Hughes, he had elevated the ... the _act_ ... to something quite attractive and desirable in the eyes of any woman. On reflection, Mrs. Patmore, long convinced (as Mrs. Hughes had been) that this aspect of a relationship had passed her by, began to think about it again, and with some longing. Mrs. Hughes had irritatingly declined to provide any details after the fact, but the fact that she could not conceal a smile even as she put Mrs. Patmore off was evidence enough that the intimacy of which she had been so apprehensive had turned out very well indeed. Mrs. Patmore thought she wouldn't mind sharing a bed with a man she cared about.

Well. She didn't fancy her chances on that happening any time soon.

 ***NOTE:** This little one-shot picks up from a scene in mid-season 6 (the exact episode escapes me). The italicized portions of the dialogue come from the original. Mrs. Patmore gets so little attention on her own. This one's for her.

 ****NOTE:** I have deviated somewhat from the canon on Mr. Carson's background. This account is consistent with _my_ version, elaborated in part in _Enough of That_.


End file.
